CHAPTER 5

YUEH (ya’ē), Wellington (weling- tun), Stdrd 10,082-10, 191; medical doctor of the Suk School (grd Stdrd 10, 112); md: WannaMarcus, B. G. (Stdrd 10,092-10,186?); chiefly noted as betrayer of Duke Leto Atreides.(Cf: Bibliography, Appendix VII Imperial Conditioning and Betrayal, The.)

—from“Dictionary of Muad’Dib”by thePrincess Irulan

ALTHOUGH HE heard Dr. Yueh enter the training room, noting the stiff deliberation of the man’s pace, Paul remained stretched out face down on the exercise table where the masseuse had left him. He felt deliciously relaxed after the workout with Gurney Halleck.

“You do look comfortable,”said Yueh in his calm, high-pitched voice.

Paul raised his head, saw the man’s stick figure standing several paces away, took in at a glance the wrinkled black clothing, the square block of a head with purple lips and drooping mustache, the diamond tattoo of Imperial Conditioning on his forehead, the long black hair caught in the Suk School’s silver ring at the left shoulder.

“You’ll be happy to hear we haven’t time for regular lessons today,”Yueh said. “Your father will be along presently.” Paul sat up.

“However, I’ve arranged for you to have a filmbook viewer and several lessons during the crossing to Arrakis.”

“Oh.” Paul began pulling on his clothes. He felt excitement that his father would be coming. They had spent so little time together since the Emperor’s command to take over the fief of Arrakis.

Yueh crossed to the ell table, thinking: How the boy has filled out these past few months. Such a waste! Oh, such a sad waste. And he reminded himself: I must not falter. What I do is done to be certain my Wanna no longer can be hurt by the Harkonnen beasts.

Paul joined him at the table, buttoning his jacket. “What’ll I be studying on the way across?”

“Ah-h-h, the terranic life forms of Arrakis. The planet seems to have opened its arms to certain terranic life forms. It’s not clear how. I must seek out the planetary ecologist when we arrive—a Dr. Kynes—and offer my help in the investigation.” And Yueh thought: What am I saying? I play the hypocrite even with myself.

“Will there be something on the Fremen?”Paul asked.

“The Fremen?”Yueh drummed his fingers on the table, caught Paul staring at the nervous motion, withdrew his hand.

“Maybe you have something on the whole Arrakeen population,”Paul said.

“Yes, to be sure,”Yueh said. “There are two general separations of the people—Fremen, they are one group, and the others are the people of the graben, the sink, and the pan. There’s some intermarriage, I’m told. The women of pan and sink villages prefer Fremen husbands; their men prefer Fremen wives. They have a saying: ‘Polish comes from the cities; wisdom from the desert.’ ”

“Do you have pictures of them?”

“I’ll see what I can get you. The most interesting feature, of course, is their eyes—totally blue, no whites in them.”

“Mutation?”

“No; it’s linked to saturation of the blood with melange.”

“The Fremen must be brave to live at the edge of that desert.”

“By all accounts,”Yueh said. “They compose poems to their knives. Their women are as fierce as the men. Even Fremen children are violent and dangerous. You’ll not be permitted to mingle with them, I daresay.” Paul stared at Yueh, finding in these few glimpses of the Fremen a power of words that caught his entire attention. What a people to win as allies! “And the worms?”Paul asked.

“What?”

“I’d like to study more about the sandworms.”

“Ah-h-h, to be sure. I’ve a filmbook on a small specimen, only one hundred and ten meters long and twenty-two meters in diameter. It was taken in the northern latitudes. Worms of more than four hundred meters in length have been recorded by reliable witnesses, and there’s reason to believe even larger ones exist.” Paul glanced down at a conical projection chart of the northern Arrakeen latitudes spread on the table. “The desert belt and south polar regions are marked uninhabitable. Is it the worms?”

“And the storms.”

“But any place can be made habitable.”

“If it’s economically feasible,”Yueh said. “Arrakis has many costly perils.” He smoothed his drooping mustache. “Your father will be here soon. Before I go, I’ve a gift for you, something I came across in packing.”He put an object on the table between them—black, oblong, no larger than the end of Paul’s thumb.

Paul looked at it. Yueh noted how the boy did not reach for it, and thought: How cautious he is.

“It’s a very old Orange Catholic Bible made for space travelers. Not a filmbook, but actually printed on filament paper. It has its own magnifier and electrostatic charge system.”He picked it up, demonstrated. “The book is held closed by the charge, which forces against spring-locked covers. You press the edge—thus, and the pages you’ve selected repel each other and the book opens.”

“It’s so small.”

“But it has eighteen hundred pages. You press the edge—thus, and so … and the charge moves ahead one page at a time as you read. Never touch the actual pages with your fingers. The filament tissue is too delicate.”He closed the book, handed it to Paul. “Try it.” Yueh watched Paul work the page adjustment, thought: I salve my own conscience. I give him the surcease of religion before betraying him. Thus may I say to myself that he has gone where I cannot go.

“This must’ve been made before filmbooks,”Paul said.

“It’s quite old. Let it be our secret, eh? Your parents might think it too valuable for one so young.” And Yueh thought: His mother would surely wonder at my motives.

“Well….”Paul closed the book, held it in his hand. “If it’s so valuable….”

“Indulge an old man’s whim,”Yueh said. “It was given to me when I was very young.”And he thought: I must catch his mind as well as his cupidity.

“Open it to four-sixty-seven K”alima—where it says: ‘From water does all life begin.’ There’s a slight notch on the edge of the cover to mark the place.” Paul felt the cover, detected two notches, one shallower than the other. He pressed the shallower one and the book spread open on his palm, its magnifier sliding into place.

“Read it aloud,”Yueh said.

Paul wet his lips with his tongue, read: ‘Think you of the fact that a deaf person cannot hear. Then, what deafness may we not all possess? What senses do we lack that we cannot see and cannot hear another world all around us? What is there around us that we cannot—”

“Stop it!”Yueh barked.

Paul broke off, stared at him.

Yueh closed his eyes, fought to regain composure. What perversity caused the book to open at my Wanna’s favorite passage? He opened his eyes, saw Paul staring at him.

“Is something wrong?”Paul asked.

“I’m sorry,”Yueh said. “That was … my … dead wife’s favorite passage.

It’s not the one I intended you to read. It brings up memories that are … painful.”

“There are two notches,”Paul said.

Of course, Yueh thought. Wanna marked her passage. His fingers are more sensitive than mine andfoundher mark. It was an accident, no more.

“You may find the book interesting,”Yueh said. “It has much historical truth in it as well as good ethical philosophy.” Paul looked down at the tiny book in his palm—such a small thing. Yet, it contained a mystery … something had happened while he read from it. He had felt something stir his terrible purpose.

“Your father will be here any minute,”Yueh said. “Put the book away and read it at your leisure.” Paul touched the edge of it as Yueh had shown him. The book sealed itself.

He slipped it into his tunic. For a moment there when Yueh had barked at him, Paul had feared the man would demand the book’s return.

“I thank you for the gift, Dr. Yueh,”Paul said, speaking formally. “It will be our secret. If there is a gift of favor you wish from me, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“I … need for nothing,”Yueh said.

And he thought: Why do I stand here torturing myself? And torturing this poor lad … though he does not know it. Oeyh! Damn those Harkonnen beasts! Why did they choose mefortheir abomination?

CHAPTER 2

To attempt an understanding of Muad‘Dib without understanding his mortal enemies, the Harkonnens, is to attempt seeing Truth without knowing Falsehood. It is the attempt to see the Light without knowing Darkness. It can not be.

—from“Manual of Muad’Dib” by the Princess Irulan

IT WAS A relief globe of a world, partly in shadows, spinning under the impetus of a fat hand that glittered with rings. The globe sat on a freeform stand at one wall of a windowless room whose other walls presented a patchwork of multicolored scrolls, filmbooks, tapes and reels. Light glowed in the room from golden balls hanging in mobile suspensor fields.

An ellipsoid desk with a top of jade-pink petrified elacca wood stood at the center of the room. Veriform suspensor chairs ringed it, two of them occupied.

In one sat a dark-haired youth of about sixteen years, round of face and with sullen eyes. The other held a slender, short man with effeminate face.

Both youth and man stared at the globe and the man half-hidden in shadows spinning it.

A chuckle sounded beside the globe. A basso voice rumbled out of the chuckle: “There it is, Piter—the biggest mantrap in all history. And the Duke’s headed into its jaws. Is it not a magnificent thing that I, the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, do?”

“Assuredly, Baron,” said the man. His voice came out tenor with a sweet, musical quality.

The fat hand descended onto the globe, stopped the spinning. Now, all eyes in the room could focus on the motionless surface and see that it was the kind of globe made for wealthy collectors or planetary governors of the Empire. It had the stamp of Imperial handicraft about it. Latitude and longitude lines were laid in with hair-fine platinum wire. The polar caps were insets of finest cloudmilk diamonds.

The fat hand moved, tracing details on the surface. “I invite you to observe,” the basso voice rumbled. “Observe closely, Piter, and you, too, Feyd-Rautha, my darling: from sixty degrees north to seventy degrees south—these exquisite ripples. Their coloring: does it not remind you of sweet caramels? And nowhere do you see blue of lakes or rivers or seas. And these lovely polar caps—so small.

Could anyone mistake this place? Arrakis! Truly unique. A superb setting for a unique victory.” A smile touched Piter’s lips. “And to think, Baron: the Padishah Emperor believes he’s given the Duke your spice planet. How poignant.”

“That’s a nonsensical statement,” the Baron rumbled. “You say this to confuse young Feyd-Rautha, but it is not necessary to confuse my nephew.” The sullen-faced youth stirred in his chair, smoothed a wrinkle in the black leotards he wore. He sat upright as a discreet tapping sounded at the door in the wall behind him.

Piter unfolded from his chair, crossed to the door, cracked it wide enough to accept a message cylinder. He closed the door, unrolled the cylinder and scanned it. A chuckle sounded from him. Another.

“Well?” the Baron demanded.

“The fool answered us, Baron!”

“Whenever did an Atreides refuse the opportunity for a gesture?” the Baron asked. “Well, what does he say?”

“He’s most uncouth, Baron. Addresses you as ‘Harkonnen’-no ‘Sire et Cher Cousin,’ no title, nothing.”

“It’s a good name,” the Baron growled, and his voice betrayed his impatience. “What does dear Leto say?”

“He says: ‘Your offer of a meeting is refused. I have ofttimes met your treachery and this all men know.’ ”

“And?” the Baron asked.

“He says: ‘The art of kanly still has admirers in the Empire.’ He signs it: ‘Duke Leto of Arrakis.’ ” Piter began to laugh. “Of Arrakis! Oh, my! This is almost too rich!”

“Be silent, Piter,” the Baron said, and the laughter stopped as though shut off with a switch. “Kanly, is it?” the Baron asked. “Vendetta, heh? And he uses the nice old word so rich in tradition to be sure I know he means it.”

“You made the peace gesture,” Piter said. “The forms have been obeyed.”

“For a Mentat, you talk too much, Piter,” the Baron said. And he thought: I must do away with that one soon. He has almost outlived his usefulness. The Baron stared across the room at his Mentat assassin, seeing the feature about him that most people noticed first: the eyes, the shaded slits of blue within blue, the eyes without any white in them at all.

A grin flashed across Piter’s face. It was like a mask grimace beneath those eyes like holes. “But, Baron! Never has revenge been more beautiful. It is to see a plan of the most exquisite treachery: to make Leto exchange Caladan for Dune —and without alternative because the Emperor orders it. How waggish of you!” In a cold voice, the Baron said: “You have a flux of the mouth, Piter.”

“But I am happy, my Baron. Whereas you … you are touched by jealousy.”

“Piter!”

“Ah-ah, Baron! Is it not regrettable you were unable to devise this delicious scheme by yourself?”

“Someday I will have you strangled, Piter.”

“Of a certainty, Baron. Enfin! But a kind act is never lost, eh?”

“Have you been chewing verite or semuta, Piter?”

“Truth without fear surprises the Baron,” Piter said. His face drew down into a caricature of a frowning mask. “Ah, hah! But you see, Baron, I know as a Mentat when you will send the executioner. You will hold back just so long as I am useful. To move sooner would be wasteful and I’m yet of much use. I know what it is you learned from that lovely Dune planet—waste not. True, Baron?” The Baron continued to stare at Piter.

Feyd-Rautha squirmed in his chair. These wrangling fools! he thought. My uncle cannot talk to his Mentat without arguing. Do they think I’ve nothing to do except listen to their arguments? “Feyd,” the Baron said. “I told you to listen and learn when I invited you in here. Are you learning?”

“Yes, Uncle.” the voice was carefully subservient.

“Sometimes I wonder about Piter,” the Baron said. “I cause pain out of necessity, but he … I swear he takes a positive delight in it. For myself, I can feel pity toward the poor Duke Leto. Dr. Yueh will move against him soon, and that’ll be the end of all the Atreides. But surely Leto will know whose hand directed the pliant doctor … and knowing that will be a terrible thing.”

“Then why haven’t you directed the doctor to slip a kindjal between his ribs quietly and efficiently?” Piter asked. “You talk of pity, but—”

“The Duke must know when I encompass his doom,” the Baron said. “And the other Great Houses must learn of it. The knowledge will give them pause. I’ll gain a bit more room to maneuver. The necessity is obvious, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Room to maneuver,” Piter sneered. “Already you have the Emperor’s eyes on you, Baron. You move too boldly. One day the Emperor will send a legion or two of his Sardaukar down here onto Giedi Prime and that’ll be an end to the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.”

“You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you, Piter?” the Baron asked. “You’d enjoy seeing the Corps of Sardaukar pillage through my cities and sack this castle.

You’d truly enjoy that.”

“Does the Baron need to ask?” Piter whispered.

“You should’ve been a Bashar of the Corps,” the Baron said. “You’re too interested in blood and pain. Perhaps I was too quick with my promise of the spoils of Arrakis.” Piter took five curiously mincing steps into the room, stopped directly behind Feyd-Rautha. There was a tight air of tension in the room, and the youth looked up at Piter with a worried frown.

“Do not toy with Piter, Baron,” Piter said. “You promised me the Lady Jessica. You promised her to me.”

“For what, Piter?” the Baron asked. “For pain?” Piter stared at him, dragging out the silence.

Feyd-Rautha moved his suspensor chair to one side, said: “Uncle, do I have to stay? You said you’d—”

“My darling Feyd-Rautha grows impatient,” the Baron said. He moved within the shadows beside the globe. “Patience, Feyd.” And he turned his attention back to the Mentat. “What of the Dukeling, the child Paul, my dear Piter?”

“The trap will bring him to you, Baron,” Piter muttered.

“That’s not my question,” the Baron said. “You’ll recall that you predicted the Bene Gesserit witch would bear a daughter to the Duke. You were wrong, eh, Mentat?”

“I’m not often wrong, Baron,” Piter said, and for the first time there was fear in his voice. “Give me that: I’m not often wrong. And you know yourself these Bene Gesserit bear mostly daughters. Even the Emperor’s consort had produced only females.”

“Uncle,” said Feyd-Rautha, “you said there’d be something important here for me to—”

“Listen to my nephew,” the Baron said. “He aspires to rule my Barony, yet he cannot rule himself.” The Baron stirred beside the globe, a shadow among shadows. “Well then, Feyd-Rautha Harkonne, I summoned you here hoping to teach you a bit of wisdom. Have you observed our good Mentat? You should’ve learned something from this exchange.”

“But, Uncle—”

“A most efficient Mentat, Piter, wouldn’t you say, Feyd?”

“Yes, but—”

“Ah! Indeed but! But he consumes too much spice, eats it like candy. Look at his eyes! He might’ve come directly from the Arrakeen labor pool. Efficient, Piter, but he’s still emotional and prone to passionate outbursts. Efficient, Piter, but he still can err.” Piter spoke in a low, sullen tone: “Did you call me in here to impair my efficiency with criticism, Baron?”

“Impair your efficiency? You know me better, Piter. I wish only for my nephew to understand the limitations of a Mentat.”

“Are you already training my replacement?” Piter demanded.

“Replace you? Why, Piter, where could I find another Mentat with your cunning and venom?”

“The same place you found me, Baron.”

“Perhaps I should at that,” the Baron mused. “You do seem a bit unstable lately. And the spice you eat!”

“Are my pleasures too expensive, Baron? Do you object to them?”

“My dear Piter, your pleasures are what tie you to me. How could I object to that? I merely wish my nephew to observe this about you.”

“Then I’m on display,” Piter said. “Shall I dance? Shall I perform my various functions for the eminent Feyd-Rau—”

“Precisely,” the Baron said. “You are on display. Now, be silent.” He glanced at Feyd-Rautha, noting his nephew’s lips, the full and pouting look of them, the Harkonnen genetic marker, now twisted slightly in amusement. “This is a Mentat, Feyd. It has been trained and conditioned to perform certain duties.

The fact that it’s encased in a human body, however, must not be overlooked. A serious drawback, that. I sometimes think the ancients with their thinking machines had the right idea.”

“They were toys compared to me,” Piter snarled. “You yourself, Baron, could outperform those machines.”

“Perhaps,” the Baron said. “Ah, well….” He took a deep breath, belched.

“Now, Piter, outline for my nephew the salient features of our campaign against the House of Atreides. Function as a Mentat for us, if you please.”

“Baron, I’ve warned you not to trust one so young with this information. My observations of—”

“I’ll be the judge of this,” the Baron said. “I give you an order, Mentat.

Perform one of your various functions.”

“So be it,” Piter said. He straightened, assuming an odd attitude of dignity— as though it were another mask, but this time clothing his entire body. “In a few days Standard, the entire household of the Duke Leto will embark on a Spacing Guild liner for Arrakis. The Guild will deposit them at the city of Arrakeen rather than at our city of Carthag. The Duke’s Mentat, Thufir Hawat, will have concluded rightly that Arrakeen is easier to defend.”

“Listen carefully, Feyd,” the Baron said. “Observe the plans within plans within plans.” Feyd-Rautha nodded, thinking: This is more like it. The old monster is letting me in on secret things at last. He must really mean for me to be his heir.

“There are several tangential possibilities,” Piter said. “I indicate that House Atreides will go to Arrakis. We must not, however, ignore the possibility the Duke has contracted with the Guild to remove him to a place of safety outside the System. Others in like circumstances have become renegade Houses, taking family atomics and shields and fleeing beyond the Imperium.”

“The Duke’s too proud a man for that,” the Baron said.

“It is a possibility,” Piter said. “The ultimate effect for us would be the same, however.”

“No, it would not!” the Baron growled. “I must have him dead and his line ended.”

“That’s the high probability,” Piter said. “There are certain preparations that indicate when a House is going renegade. The Duke appears to be doing none of these things.”

“So,” the Baron sighed. “Get on with it, Piter.

“At Arrakeen,” Piter said, “the Duke and his family will occupy the Residency, lately the home of Count and Lady Fenring.”

“The Ambassador to the Smugglers,” the Baron chuckled.

“Ambassador to what?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Your uncle makes a joke,” Piter said. “He calls Count Fenring Ambassador to the Smugglers, indicating the Emperor’s interest in smuggling operations on Arrakis.” Feyd-Rautha turned a puzzled stare on his uncle. “Why?”

“Don’t be dense, Feyd,” the Baron snapped. “As long as the Guild remains effectively outside Imperial control, how could it be otherwise? How else could spies and assassins move about?” Feyd-Rautha’s mouth made a soundless “Oh-h-h-h.”

“We’ve arranged diversions at the Residency,” Piter said. “There’ll be an attempt on the life of the Atreides heir—an attempt which could succeed.”

“Piter,” the Baron rumbled, “you indicated—”

“I indicated accidents can happen,” Piter said. “And the attempt must appear valid.”

“Ah, but the lad has such a sweet young body,” the Baron said. “Of course, he’s potentially more dangerous than the father … with that witch mother training him. Accursed woman! Ah, well, please continue, Piter.”

“Hawat will have divined that we have an agent planted on him,” Piter said.

“The obvious suspect is Dr. Yueh, who is indeed our agent. But Hawat has investigated and found that our doctor is a Suk School graduate with Imperial Conditioning—supposedly safe enough to minister even to the Emperor. Great store is set on Imperial Conditioning. It’s assumed that ultimate conditioning cannot be removed without killing the subject. However, as someone once observed, given the right lever you can move a planet. We found the lever that moved the doctor.”

“How?” Feyd-Rautha asked. He found this a fascinating subject. Everyone knew you couldn’t subvert Imperial Conditioning! “Another time,” the Baron said. “Continue, Piter.”

“In place of Yueh,” Piter said, “we’ll drag a most interesting suspect across Hawat’s path. The very audacity of this suspect will recommend her to Hawat’s attention.”

“Her?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“The Lady Jessica herself,” the Baron said.

“Is it not sublime?” Piter asked. “Hawat’s mind will be so filled with this prospect it’ll impair his function as a Mentat. He may even try to kill her.” Piter frowned, then: “But I don’t think he’ll be able to carry it off.”

“You don’t want him to, eh?” the Baron asked.

“Don’t distract me,” Piter said. “While Hawat’s occupied with the Lady Jessica, we’ll divert him further with uprisings in a few garrison towns and the like. These will be put down. The Duke must believe he’s gaining a measure of security. Then, when the moment is ripe, we’ll signal Yueh and move in with our major force … ah….”

“Go ahead, tell him all of it,” the Baron said.

“We’ll move in strengthened by two legions of Sardaukar disguised in Harkonnen livery.”

“Sardaukar!” Feyd-Rautha breathed. His mind focused on the dread Imperial troops, the killers without mercy, the soldier-fanatics of the Padishah Emperor.

“You see how I trust you, Feyd,” the Baron said. “No hint of this must ever reach another Great House, else the Landsraad might unite against the Imperial House and there’d be chaos.”

“The main point,” Piter said, “is this: since House Harkonnen is being used to do the Imperial dirty work, we’ve gained a true advantage. It’s a dangerous advantage, to be sure, but if used cautiously, will bring House Harkonnen greater wealth than that of any other House in the Imperium.”

“You have no idea how much wealth is involved, Feyd,” the Baron said.

“Not in your wildest imaginings. To begin, we’ll have an irrevocable directorship in the CHOAM Company.” Feyd-Rautha nodded. Wealth was the thing. CHOAM was the key to wealth, each noble House dipping from the company’s coffers whatever it could under the power of the directorships. Those CHOAM directorships—they were the real evidence of political power in the Imperium, passing with the shifts of voting strength within the Landsraad as it balanced itself against the Emperor and his supporters.

“The Duke Leto,” Piter said, “may attempt to flee to the new Fremen scum along the desert’s edge. Or he may try to send his family into that imagined security. But that path is blocked by one of His Majesty’s agents—the planetary ecologist. You may remember him—Kynes.”

“Feyd remembers him,” the Baron said. “Get on with it.”

“You do not drool very prettily, Baron,” Piter said.

“Get on with it, I command you!” the Baron roared.

Piter shrugged. “If matters go as planned,” he said, “House Harkonnen will have a subfief on Arrakis within a Standard year. Your uncle will have dispensation of that fief. His own personal agent will rule on Arrakis.”

“More profits,” Feyd-Rautha said.

“Indeed,” the Baron said. And he thought: It’s only just. We’re the ones who tamed Arrakis … except for the few mongrel Fremen hiding in the skirts of the desert … and some tame smugglers bound to the planet almost as tightly as the native laborpool.

“And the Great Houses will know that the Baron has destroyed the Atreides,” Piter said. “They will know.”

“They will know,” the Baron breathed.

“Loveliest of all,” Piter said, “is that the Duke will know, too. He knows now. He can already feel the trap.”

“It’s true the Duke knows,” the Baron said, and his voice held a note of sadness. “He could not help but know … more’s the pity.” The Baron moved out and away from the globe of Arrakis. As he emerged from the shadows, his figure took on dimension—grossly and immensely fat.

And with subtle bulges beneath folds of his dark robes to reveal that all this fat was sustained partly by portable suspensors harnessed to his flesh. He might weigh two hundred Standard kilos in actuality, but his feet would carry no more than fifty of them.

“I am hungry,” the Baron rumbled, and he rubbed his protruding lips with a beringed hand, stared down at Feyd-Rautha through fat-enfolded eyes. “Send for food, my darling. We will eat before we retire.”

“《沙丘》的故事情節(jié)就跟制作電影的過程一樣精細而復雜?！?/span>

——執(zhí)行制片人監(jiān)作者坦尼亞·拉朋特

在弗蘭克·赫伯特的《沙丘》中，我最喜歡的一句話是“計中計”。它不僅概括了小說故事情節(jié)的復雜性和信息密度，而且準確地描述了電影制作過程。就像俄羅斯套娃一樣，電影的制作過程中也有很多看不見的部分。你永遠不知道有多少層嵌套，直到你著手把它們拆解開來。

作為《沙丘》的執(zhí)行制片人，我參與了所有的制作會議和藝術決策。我的首要任務是將導演丹尼斯·維倫紐瓦的想象變?yōu)楝F(xiàn)實。在過去的五年里，這位法裔加拿大電影人一直都在和我一起工作生病時也不例外，先是《降臨》，然后是《銀翼殺手2049》，現(xiàn)在是《沙丘》。我近距離地目睹了他的創(chuàng)作過程，并一次又一次地見證了他制作獨具一格、充滿智慧又感人至深的科幻電影的決心。

改編弗蘭克·赫伯特的小說一向是龐大艱巨的任務。如果你讀過這部1965年出版的杰作，你一定對此了然于胸?！渡城稹分v述了保羅·厄崔迪的故事，他在郁郁蔥蔥的卡拉丹星球出生并長大，父親是雷托·厄崔迪公爵，母親杰西卡夫人是掌控著血統(tǒng)傳承的貝尼·杰瑟里特姐妹會的成員。當皇帝——帝國的統(tǒng)治者——命令厄崔迪家族遷往一顆名為“厄拉科斯”，又被稱作沙丘”的沙漠星球時，這位年輕繼承人的平靜生活結束了。這顆星球是已知宇宙中唯一可以找到并收集香料的地方。香料是一種精神藥物，可以提供太空旅行所需的預見能力。帝國的香料貿(mào)易堪比真實世界的石油工業(yè)。

在過去的八十年里，厄拉科斯一直由冷酷無情的哈克南家族控，這一地位使得該家族非常富有。弗拉基米爾·哈克南男爵，一個肥胖而又殘忍的人，不愿看到這顆星球落入他的死敵厄崔迪家之手，于是著手醞釀復仇計劃。同時，當?shù)貎疵偷纳衬畱?zhàn)士群“弗雷曼人”稱保羅為“李?！ぐ枺w布”，意思是“天外之音”，指的是貝尼·杰瑟里特在很久以前就種下的傳說和迷信。

據(jù)這些信仰，年輕的保羅是一位救世主，將帶領弗雷曼人獲得救。這個男孩經(jīng)歷了他的第一次香料幻覺后，開始認為這個預言可是真的。雷托公爵試圖與弗雷曼人結成聯(lián)盟，但為時已晚：哈克男家族大舉進攻，在皇帝的幫助下消滅了厄崔迪家族，而皇帝從一開始就參與了這個計劃。巴羅和杰西卡擺脫了敵人，逃到沙漠深處，并在那里與弗雷曼人開始了新的旅程。

這的確是“計中計”?！渡城稹返墓适虑楣?jié)就跟制作電影的過程一樣精細而復雜。

畢生的夢想

這部電影的誕生有一些偶然性。

這一切始于2016年9月的威尼斯電影節(jié)。在為新電影《降臨》接受媒體采訪時，丹尼斯告訴記者，他畢生的夢想就是改編弗蘭克·赫伯特的《沙丘》。這句話并沒有被忽視，很快就被一些新聞媒體報道了。這個新聞故事突然激發(fā)出來的興趣讓我們開始討論這本小說。他當時是這么告訴我的。

《沙丘》是一部了不起的小說，一本偉大的書。它是一個非常難改編的故事，因為它是一部史詩般的太空歌劇，充滿了復雜的主題。在我還是個十幾歲的少年時，我就對它十分著迷。我把所有相關的書都讀了個遍。我家里就有《沙丘百科全書》。我的畢業(yè)戒指內(nèi)側刻著“穆阿迪布”這個詞，我的畢業(yè)年鑒里甚至有《沙丘》的摘抄。我很喜歡它。

小說的中心主題由宗教和政治交織而成。這本書對流行文化產(chǎn)生了巨大的影響，對我這個電影導演來說也是如此。

你可以在《銀翼殺手2049》中看到來自《沙丘》的靈感。更具體地說，是在尼安德·華萊士的辦公室里。這種靈感體現(xiàn)在它的規(guī)模、風格和色彩上。我很想在沙漠中拍攝《沙丘》。沙漠恰好是全世界我最喜歡的地方。

兩年半后，丹尼斯畢生的夢想將成為現(xiàn)實。

CHAPTER 3

Thus spoke St. Alia-of-the-Knife: “The Reverend Mother must combine the seductive wiles of acourtesan with the untouchable majesty of a virgin goddess, holding these attributes in tension so long as the powers of her youth endure. For when youth and beauty have gone, she will find that the placebetween, once occupied by tension, has become a well-spring of cunning and resourcefulness.” —from“Muad’Dib, Family Commentaries” by the Princess Irulan

“WELL, JESSICA, what have you to say for yourself?” asked the Reverend Mother.

It was near sunset at Castle Caladan on the day of Paul’s ordeal. The two women were alone in Jessica’s morning room while Paul waited in the adjoining soundproofed Meditation Chamber.

Jessica stood facing the south windows. She saw and yet did not see the evening’s banked colors across meadow and river. She heard and yet did not hear the Reverend Mother’s question.

There had been another ordeal once—so many years ago. A skinny girl with hair the color of bronze, her body tortured by the winds of puberty, had entered the study of the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, Proctor Superior of the Bene Gesserit school on Wallach IX. Jessica looked down at her right hand, flexed the fingers, remembering the pain, the terror, the anger.

“Poor Paul,” she whispered.

“I asked you a question, Jessica!” The old woman’s voice was snappish, demanding.

“What? Oh….” Jessica tore her attention away from the past, faced the Reverend Mother, who sat with back to the stone wall between the two west windows. “What do you want me to say?”

“What do I want you to say? What do I want you to say?” The old voice carried a tone of cruel mimicry.

“So I had a son!” Jessica flared. And she knew she was being goaded into this anger deliberately.

“You were told to bear only daughters to the Atreides.”

“It meant so much to him,” Jessica pleaded.

“And you in your pride thought you could produce the Kwisatz Haderach!” Jessica lifted her chin. “I sensed the possibility.”

“You thought only of your Duke’s desire for a son,” the old woman snapped.

“And his desires don’t figure in this. An Atreides daughter could’ve been wed to a Harkonnen heir and sealed the breach. You’ve hopelessly complicated matters.

We may lose both bloodlines now.”

“You’re not infallible,” Jessica said. She braved the steady stare from the old eyes.

Presently, the old woman muttered: “What’s done is done.”

“I vowed never to regret my decision,” Jessica said.

“How noble,” the Reverend Mother sneered. “No regrets. We shall see when you’re a fugitive with a price on your head and every man’s hand turned against you to seek your life and the life of your son.” Jessica paled. “Is there no alternative?”

“Alternative? A Bene Gesserit should ask that?”

“I ask only what you see in the future with your superior abilities.”

“I see in the future what I’ve seen in the past. You well know the pattern of our affairs, Jessica. The race knows its own mortality and fears stagnation of its heredity. It’s in the bloodstream—the urge to mingle genetic strains without plan. The Imperium, the CHOAM Company, all the Great Houses, they are but bits of flotsam in the path of the flood.”

“CHOAM,” Jessica muttered. “I suppose it’s already decided how they’ll redivide the spoils of Arrakis.”

“What is CHOAM but the weather vane of our times,” the old woman said.

“The Emperor and his friends now command fifty-nine point six-five per cent of the CHOAM directorship’s votes. Certainly they smell profits, and likely as others smell those same profits his voting strength will increase. This is the pattern of history, girl.”

“That’s certainly what I need right now,” Jessica said. “A review of history.”

“Don’t be facetious, girl! You know as well as I do what forces surround us.

We’ve a three-point civilization: the Imperial Household balanced against the Federated Great Houses of the Landsraad, and between them, the Guild with its damnable monopoly on interstellar transport. In politics, the tripod is the most unstable of all structures. It’d be bad enough without the complication of a feudal trade culture which turns its back on most science.” Jessica spoke bitterly: “Chips in the path of the flood—and this chip here, this is the Duke Leto, and this one’s his son, and this one’s—”

“Oh, shut up, girl. You entered this with full knowledge of the delicate edge you walked.”

“ ‘I am Bene Gesserit: I exist only to serve,’ ” Jessica quoted.

“Truth,” the old woman said. “And all we can hope for now is to prevent this from erupting into general conflagration, to salvage what we can of the key bloodlines.” Jessica closed her eyes, feeling tears press out beneath the lids. She fought down the inner trembling, the outer trembling, the uneven breathing, the ragged pulse, the sweating of the palms. Presently, she said, “I’ll pay for my own mistake.”

“And your son will pay with you.”

“I’ll shield him as well as I’m able.”

“Shield!” the old woman snapped. “You well know the weakness there! Shield your son too much, Jessica, and he’ll not grow strong enough to fulfill any destiny.” Jessica turned away, looked out the window at the gathering darkness. “Is it really that terrible, this planet of Arrakis?”

“Bad enough, but not all bad. The Missionaria Protectiva has been in there and softened it up somewhat.” The Reverend Mother heaved herself to her feet, straightened a fold in her gown. “Call the boy in here. I must be leaving soon.”

“Must you?” The old woman’s voice softened. “Jessica, girl, I wish I could stand in your place and take your sufferings. But each of us must make her own path.”

“I know.”

“You’re as dear to me as any of my own daughters, but I cannot let that interfere with duty.”

“I understand … the necessity.”

“What you did, Jessica, and why you did it—we both know. But kindness forces me to tell you there’s little chance your lad will be the Bene Gesserit Totality. You mustn’t let yourself hope too much.” Jessica shook tears from the corners of her eyes. It was an angry gesture.

“You make me feel like a little girl again—reciting my first lesson.” She forced the words out: “ ‘Humans must never submit to animals.’ ” A dry sob shook her.

In a low voice, she said: “I’ve been so lonely.”

“It should be one of the tests,” the old woman said. “Humans are almost always lonely. Now summon the boy. He’s had a long, frightening day. But he’s had time to think and remember, and I must ask the other questions about these dreams of his.” Jessica nodded, went to the door of the Meditation Chamber, opened it.

“Paul, come in now, please.” Paul emerged with a stubborn slowness. He stared at his mother as though she were a stranger. Wariness veiled his eyes when he glanced at the Reverend Mother, but this time he nodded to her, the nod one gives an equal. He heard his mother close the door behind him.

“Young man,” the old woman said, “l(fā)et’s return to this dream business.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you dream every night?”

“Not dreams worth remembering. I can remember every dream, but some are worth remembering and some aren’t.”

“How do you know the difference?”

“I just know it.” The old woman glanced at Jessica, back to Paul. “What did you dream last night? Was it worth remembering?”

“Yes.” Paul closed his eyes. “I dreamed a cavern … and water … and a girl there—very skinny with big eyes. Her eyes are all blue, no whites in them. I talk to her and tell her about you, about seeing the Reverend Mother on Caladan.” Paul opened his eyes.

“And the thing you tell this strange girl about seeing me, did it happen today?” Paul thought about this, then: “Yes. I tell the girl you came and put a stamp of strangeness on me.”

“Stamp of strangeness,” the old woman breathed, and again she shot a glance at Jessica, returned her attention to Paul. “Tell me truly now, Paul, do you often have dreams of things that happen afterward exactly as you dreamed them?”

“Yes. And I’ve dreamed about that girl before.”

“Oh? You know her?”

“I will know her.”

“Tell me about her.” Again, Paul closed his eyes. “We’re in a little place in some rocks where it’s sheltered. It’s almost night, but it’s hot and I can see patches of sand out of an opening in the rocks. We’re… waiting for something … for me to go meet some people. And she’s frightened but trying to hide it from me, and I’m excited. And she says: ‘Tell me about the waters of your homeworld, Usul.’ ” Paul opened his eyes. “Isn’t that strange? My homeworld’s Caladan. I’ve never even heard of a planet called Usul.”

“Is there more to this dream?” Jessica prompted.

“Yes. But maybe she was calling me Usul,” Paul said. “I just thought of that.” Again, he closed his eyes. “She asks me to tell her about the waters. And I take her hand. And I say I’ll tell her a poem. And I tell her the poem, but I have to explain some of the words—like beach and surf and seaweed and seagulls.”

“What poem?” the Reverend Mother asked.

Paul opened his eyes. “It’s just one of Gurney Halleck’s tone poems for sad times.” Behind Paul, Jessica began to recite: “I remember salt smoke from a beach fire And shadows under the pines— Solid, clean … fixed— Seagulls perched at the tip of land, White upon green … And a wind comes through the pines To sway the shadows; The seagulls spread their wings, Lift And fill the sky with screeches.

And I hear the wind Blowing across our beach, And the surf, And I see that our fire Has scorched the seaweed.”

“That’s the one,” Paul said.

The old woman stared at Paul, then: “Young man, as a Proctor of the Bene Gesserit, I seek the Kwisatz Haderach, the male who truly can become one of us.

Your mother sees this possibility in you, but she sees with the eyes of a mother.

Possibility I see, too, but no more.” She fell silent and Paul saw that she wanted him to speak. He waited her out.

Presently, she said: “As you will, then. You’ve depths in you; that I’ll grant.”

“May I go now?” he asked.

“Don’t you want to hear what the Reverend Mother can tell you about the Kwisatz Haderach?” Jessica asked.

“She said those who tried for it died.”

“But I can help you with a few hints at why they failed,” the Reverend Mother said.

She talks of hints, Paul thought. She doesn’t really know anything. And he said: “Hint then.”

“And be damned to me?” She smiled wryly, a crisscross of wrinkles in the old face. “Very well: ‘That which submits rules.’ ” He felt astonishment: she was talking about such elementary things as tension within meaning. Did she think his mother had taught him nothing at all? “That’s a hint?” he asked.

“We’re not here to bandy words or quibble over their meaning,” the old woman said. “The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows—a wall against the wind. This is the willow’s purpose.” Paul stared at her. She said purpose and he felt the word buffet him, reinfecting him with terrible purpose. He experienced a sudden anger at her: fatuous old witch with her mouth full of platitudes.

“You think I could be this Kwisatz Haderach,” he said. “You talk about me, but you haven’t said one thing about what we can do to help my father. I’ve heard you talking to my mother. You talk as though my father were dead. Well, he isn’t!”

“If there were a thing to be done for him, we’d have done it,” the old woman growled. “We may be able to salvage you. Doubtful, but possible. But for your father, nothing. When you’ve learned to accept that as a fact, you’ve learned a real Bene Gesserit lesson.” Paul saw how the words shook his mother. He glared at the old woman. How could she say such a thing about his father? What made her so sure? His mind seethed with resentment.

The Reverend Mother looked at Jessica. “You’ve been training him in the Way—I’ve seen the signs of it. I’d have done the same in your shoes and devil take the Rules.” Jessica nodded.

“Now, I caution you,” said the old woman, “to ignore the regular order of training. His own safety requires the Voice. He already has a good start in it, but we both know how much more he needs … and that desperately.” She stepped close to Paul, stared down at him. “Goodbye, young human. I hope you make it.

But if you don’t—well, we shall yet succeed.” Once more she looked at Jessica. A flicker sign of understanding passed between them. Then the old woman swept from the room, her robes hissing, with not another backward glance. The room and its occupants already were shut from her thoughts.

But Jessica had caught one glimpse of the Reverend Mother’s face as she turned away. There had been tears on the seamed cheeks. The tears were more unnerving than any other word or sign that had passed between them this day.

You have read that Muad‘Dib had no playmates his own age on Caladan. The dangers were too great.

But Muad’Dib did have wonderful companionteachers. There was Gurney Halleck, the troubadour-warrior. You will sing some of Gurney’s songs as you read along in this book. There was Thufir Hawat, the old Mentat Master of Assassins, who struck fear even into the heart of the Padishah Emperor. There were Duncan Idaho, the Swordmaster of the Ginaz;

我們很快就聽說，丹尼斯對《沙丘》的熱情已經(jīng)引起了努力爭取該書版權的人的注意。

制片人瑪麗·帕倫特和凱爾·博伊特都是弗蘭克·赫伯特原著小說的粉絲，在他們加入傳奇娛樂公司，分別擔任全球制作副主席和創(chuàng)意事務執(zhí)行副總裁之前，就已經(jīng)開始求購這本書的電影版權了。

盡管這個故事是在20世紀60年代寫就的，但它仍然有著極強的現(xiàn)實意義。”瑪麗說，“從主題上講，它描繪了全人類目前面臨的挑戰(zhàn)，例如生態(tài)崩潰的世界、腐敗和不斷移位的政治流沙。這些主題的中心，是一個年輕人努力駕馭我們的新世界的成長故事?！?/span>與赫伯特遺產(chǎn)管理會的溝通始于2012年?！拔覀冮_始了洽談購買電影版權的征途，”凱爾回憶道，“我們在2016年加入了傳奇公司，這讓我們能夠站在第一線，把制作這部電影列為當務之急?！睅啄陙?，各大電影公司一直在找弗蘭克·赫伯特遺產(chǎn)管理會——由弗蘭克·赫伯特的長子布萊恩·赫伯特、外孫拜倫·梅里特和孫女金·赫伯特管理——商談購買《沙丘》的電影版權。

2015年2月，布萊恩和他的妻子揚前往洛杉磯，與傳奇影業(yè)會面?！皶h進行得非常順利，”布萊恩回憶道，“但其他電影公司也有興趣，遺產(chǎn)管理會要做出一項重要決定，這個決定將對’沙丘系列電影的未來產(chǎn)生至關重要的影響。”次年9月，當?shù)つ崴贡磉_了他畢生的愿望——執(zhí)導一部改編自《沙丘》小說的電影時，赫伯特遺產(chǎn)管理會心動了?！拔覀儧Q定不和他直接聯(lián)系，因為當時我們的工作室還沒有建好?！辈既R恩解釋道。